


Fictober20 fills

by endlessblu



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: (or references to it), Action, Alcohol, All Worlds Ultimate Swoop Rally, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Chiss (Star Wars), Declarations Of Love, Domestic Fluff, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, F/M, Family Fluff, Fictober 2020, Fluff, Gore, Guns, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Sex, Imprisonment, Jedi Consular Class Story Spoilers, Kid Fic, Kissing, Lots of kissing, M/M, Manipulation, Nudity, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Relationship, Pregnancy, Sacking of Coruscant (Star Wars), Smuggler Nonsense, Smuggler Storyline Spoilers, Star Wars: The Old Republic - Knights of the Fallen Empire, Suggestive Themes, Swoop Rally, Theron's ever complicated relationship with his parents, Whump, but incredibly vague, references to homelessness, sugary sweet fluff no judging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:35:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 12,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26750734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endlessblu/pseuds/endlessblu
Summary: One shots written as part of the Fictober 2020 challenge on tumblr. Tags given for the collection as a whole, warnings and summaries given at the start of each chapter.Original characters:Yalla'ra, Jedi Knight, OutlanderTiccer, Smuggler, VoidhoundRuka'ii, Jedi Consular, Barsen'thorOnyxus, Bounty Hunter, PirateKaetos, Jedi KnightQiren, Smuggler, AU OutlanderJayma, Bounty Hunter, Grand Champion of the Great Hunt
Relationships: Corso Riggs/Female Smuggler, Felix Iresso/Female Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor, Female Jedi Knight | Hero of Tython/Theron Shan, Male Bounty Hunter/Paxton Rall, Male Smuggler/Original Male Character(s), Risha Drayen/Male Smuggler
Kudos: 3





	1. Do we have to?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt 'Do we have to?'
> 
> Jace Malcom is coming to visit Odessen, and Theron is trying his best to get out of it. Set in the months post-Onslaught. Fluff.
> 
> Warnings for pregnancy.
> 
> This one was incredibly fun to write, hope you enjoy!

The plan had been obvious, simple even, when they’d made it. _When_ they’d made it. How hard could it possibly be? Sit in a room with Theron and his father for a couple of hours, no big deal. Surely she could get him through that. 

They’d gone through so much together, fought so many battles with the most improbable odds, that this should be a piece of cake. Right? 

Right? 

Yet the day was here and it was apparent that no, this actually _was_ a very big deal indeed. Theron and his parents were always complicated at the best of times, and throwing a new family member into the mix just gave an extra challenge to an already tricky situation. 

Jace Malcom, the Supreme Commander of the Republic Military, would be arriving on Odessen within the hour. Ostensibly it was for a meeting involving the Alliance leaders, which handily now included his former assistant Elara Dorne and her wife, Leire Santo, the former leader of Havoc Squad and newly elected senator for Odessen. Such meetings were commonplace, the military links playing a key part in shoring up the relationship between the Alliance and the Republic. 

But the meetings were normally done over long-distance holocalls. There was a second, less official, reason for this visit, and everyone knew what it was. 

Theron had begun endlessly pacing back and forth through the bedroom, and there was no way of stopping him in that sort of mood.

“Do we _have_ to?” 

“Theron, he’s the Supreme Commander. Even if he wasn’t your father, it’s not like we can just turn him back now.” 

“Yes we can. I could...set off the base’s alarms and initiate a space-traffic closure in the system, I could-" 

“Theron.” 

“-probably slice into his ship’s navicomputers once he comes into range, turn him back around-" 

“ _Theron._ ” 

“Actually I could just shut down comms planet-wide, that’s probably the simplest thing to do now I think of it-" 

“ _THERON SHAN._ ” 

“Yes, honey?” His voice was suddenly sugary-sweet, overcompensating for the abrupt end to his monologue. And maybe she’d have let him get away with it, only he made it all too obvious with the term of affection he'd never once used with her before.

“We are not creating a diplomatic incident between the Alliance and the Republic just so you can avoid spending time with your father.” 

Theron sat back down, flopping himself back onto the bed with a groan. “That’s probably fair,” he sighed. 

Yalla'ra curled up alongside him, pulling him in closer as she nestled into the crook of his neck. His hand took its familiar route to the swell of her belly, where the bump had become just large enough for others to notice. Something that made it all real. 

“I’ll be with you the whole time, there’s nothing to worry about. And Jace likes me.” 

“Of course he does, you’re the military’s favourite Jedi,” he teased, giving her a slight nudge. 

“Ten years ago maybe, but we did get on well. I can do the talking if you don’t want to,” she said as she moved her hand to join his, waiting for him to think through what he needed. 

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he paused again. “Well, it might be. Whatever relationship we started to have fell apart when I left the Republic, and since? I don’t know.” 

“You have a chance now, you just have to take it. You saw how excited he was on the holo when we told him. Don’t leave yourself wondering.” She lifted her head to place a few careful kisses along his jawline, the frown on his face easing slightly as she did so. 

“Yeah, you’re right.” He sat back up, placing his hands on his knees with a heavy exhale and the start of a smile as he turned back towards her. 

“I know I am,” she said, scrunching her nose at him as she spoke.

Theron rolled his eyes, “Alright, now let’s get out of this room before I change my mind again.”


	2. Yes I did, what about it?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written for the prompt 'yes I did, what about it?'
> 
> Set a few years prior to the class story. Ticcer is introduced to Slick, who helps him get to grips with his recently-acquired ship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains references to homelessness.

“Alright boss? Got your message, this the new guy?” A young, blue-skinned Twi'lek strolled over towards Ticcer and Caspith, evidently another member of the crew. He wore a slightly grubby shirt below a leatheris jacket, with what looked like an animal tooth dangling on a chain around his neck alongside a pair of goggles. His face was covered in a thin layer of dust and grime, broken only by clean marks around his eyes where the goggles had clearly been worn moments before. Yet it was the smile that filled his face that caught Ticcer's attention most of all; a twinkling, mischievous grin that exuded warmth as he looked him in the eyes. 

“This is the one. He brought Davrin's freighter in, minus Davrin of course. Take a look over the ship and show him the ropes, won't you?” With a hearty slap on the Twi'lek's back Caspith started making his way back to the house, leaving the two of them alone. 

“Hey, name's Slick. Sorry about the mess on me, been under a speeder half the day.” He reached out to shake Ticcer's hand. “So you really stole this thing and flew it here by yourself, just like that?”

Ticcer's stance stiffened. “Yes I did, what about it?”

“Easy, easy, I'm not trying to start a fight – just impressed, is all,” he smiled, before raising his head to shout after his retreating boss. “Oi! Caspith! Stop introducing people to Jayma first, some of us actually want to make friends here!” Caspith didn't turn around, merely flicking an obscene gesture Slick's way as he slunk back into the house. 

Slick beckoned Ticcer into the ship. “Come on, let's get this thing sorted for you then.” There was a spring in his step as he began walking up the ship's ramp, his spotted lekku dancing to his strides almost with a mind of their own. Ticcer still walked onto the ship with a sense of wonder, touching the walls like he couldn't quite believe they technically belonged to him now. Slick, however, walked with the confidence of someone who'd been inside hundreds of times before, a sense of familiarity evident as he took barely a second glance at his surroundings. 

“Kriff, this thing's a state. Davrin never looked after his stuff properly. You look like someone who can appreciate it though. This your first ship?”

“Uhh...yeah,” said Ticcer.

“You actually from Coruscant then?”

“Mm,” he grunted, desperately wanting to avoid where this line of questioning would inevitably lead. But Slick didn't follow with an interrogation, just leaned against the wall and paused. It wasn't the curious stare Ticcer expected, instead one of knowing and...was that sympathy? He wasn't too familiar with the emotion, so it was hard to be sure: where he was from, people cared for themselves rather than each other. Sob stories might work for a con but down on the lower levels, everyone was in the same boat. No use complaining about it. 

“Can't have been easy for you,” Slick waited, not pressing him further. “Me, I'm from Ryloth. Crime lords, imps, all sorts showed up there for us. Smuggled myself out on a cargo ship one day so they wouldn't take me too. But look at us now, we can be what we want to be.” He put his hand on Ticcer's shoulder, giving it a friendly squeeze before running off again through the ship. Ticcer was left standing still, not knowing how to respond to the physical affection. His instinct was to freeze, tense up when people came too close, but something about Slick was wearing down the barriers he'd built, even in such a short time. 

Attempting to pull his thoughts together, he followed Slick's path and found him in the cockpit on his back, plugging a slicer's spike into the ship's computers.

“Hey, there you are! Something important you gotta do here,” he said as he pointed at a datapad on the floor next to him. “I've got through to the ship's registry here, time to make your new ride official.”

There it was. _Enter Name_. Two simple words blinking on a screen, but which represented everything he'd been dreaming of. A ship, his freedom. Slick was right; he could be what he wanted now. The whole galaxy was at his fingertips and no-one could question his right to be there. But more importantly, he had something to come back to. When could he last say that was the case? No more sleeping with one eye open, no more scraping together credits to find food and a shelter for another night. Now his name was there, official, written down. Not Ticcanledri Marzan, orphan, street rat. Ticcer Marzan, ship owner, pilot. He was _someone._

The corners of his mouth started to lift, his heart swelling with a pride and satisfaction that he hadn't remembered existed.

Slick had stood up, wandering towards Ticcer and wrapping an arm around his shoulders. Ticcer didn't tense up this time, even relaxing at the contact.

“Well, Ticcer Marzan. Looks like you're a Captain now. So where you headed?”

Ticcer turned his head towards him, his face having flourished into a full smile as he initiated eye contact for the first time.

“You know, I think I might just stick around.”


	3. You did this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the prompt 'you did this?'
> 
> Theron is reunited with Yalla’ra on Odessen after a long five years, and has brought her ship back for her, too. 
> 
> Set during chapter nine of KotFE. Pre-relationship, but only by a few hours.

“Needs work...a lot of work!” Zora's voice butted into his implants as gradually the rumbling of a ship's engines came closer. Yalla'ra gave him the slightest of frowns before turning to seek the source of the noise.

Theron folded his arms and waited, doing his best to contain the grin on his face that had been trying to creep out ever since he saw her again for the first time.

Five years. _Five years._

Five years of pain. Of desperately seeking any shred of hope to hold on to, that she was still alive, _somewhere_ out there. But it was almost worth the wait to see the way the smile lit up her face when she saw him there. 

It was nice to think that smile was all for him. Lana had said there'd been none of her usual sass, none of the laughter he'd grown used to from her, after all. 

Her hand clutched at his arm as the sound grew louder and at last the ship came into view. The _Protector_ , a Defender-class light corvette, the hallmark ship of a Jedi. Its appearance had caught the attention of most hanging around the landing bay, but he couldn't keep his eyes off its owner. 

She let go of his arm and took a few cautious steps towards the ship, almost as if uncertain about what had landed before her. 

“My ship...you did this...for me?”

“Well of course I did, I wasn't just going-” His words were cut off as he was almost knocked off his feet by the force of the hug launched towards him. He couldn't stop his instinct to cling tightly to the body in his arms in response, breathing in the scent of her hair. How could he let her go, and risk losing her again?

He fought to hide his embarrassment as the hug ended, scratching an imaginary itch at his neck as he tried to move things along. “Well, I'll let you have a moment. Meet me soon though, there's plenty to discuss.”

Instead Yalla'ra held out her hand towards him. “Come on.”

He hesitated, his head battling his heart's wish to follow her, anywhere she went. 

“Please? Theron, I'm...I'm not sure I can go in by myself.”

It would have taken a heart of stone to say no. He allowed her to pull him forward as she eagerly ran towards the ship with a giggle, half-jokingly rolling his eyes at her sudden show of enthusiasm. But the laughter stopped when she let go of his hand, the trepidation returning to her steps as she walked up the ship's ramp and paused at the door. 

“It's alright, you can do it,” he said, squeezing her shoulder in an attempt to offer at least some form of comfort. She gave half a nod, but remained still for a moment longer before entering. 

He'd been inside the _Protector_ plenty of times before, but never once with its owner. After the rest of the crew had disappeared and the ship had been impounded, he'd made a point of keeping it maintained. Someone had to. And so what if he'd sliced a few systems to stop it being reclaimed? It wasn't someone else's to take. It was _hers_ , and she would still need it, even if she...even if she didn't just then. And the ship had to stay functional, he had to make sure it could still be flown if she came back. When. When she came back. 

That was the reason he visited it so often. Not so he could retrace the last steps he could know for sure that she'd taken. Not so he could religiously polish the armour that hung on her wall, feel the intricate carvings and embossing of her battle mask and the weight of its cool metal in his hands. Not so he could learn all the minute details of the ship, each customisation that had been made, each marker that showed this wasn't a ship but a home, a place where people had lived. No, that wasn't why kept visiting. 

Maybe if he repeated it enough times in his mind, eventually it would be true. 

The ship had always been so cold when he'd been inside before. Silent, empty. Amazing how just one person could make it so warm and full of life. 

Her smile returned as she walked inside, beginning with just a twitch at her lips before blossoming across her face as she raced through the ship and into the cockpit. His cheeks ached from the smile he hadn't realised had won him over too, a sensation he'd not known in a long time. He followed her as she toured the ship, sometimes rushing into rooms, sometimes more hesitant, especially around her crew's quarters. He couldn't help but notice her steer clear of the medbay completely. 

The only room left was her quarters. He hung back rather than let her lead him in like she had with the rest of the ship, waiting a few minutes before he entered at last. 

Yalla'ra was sat on the bed, staring at the metal mask she weighed in her hands. Her fingers traced its shape, starting at the edges before gently caressing the distinctive embossing and engravings that made it so unique. It was a personal, intimate moment, and he was just about to back away so as not to interrupt when she spoke. 

“I made this myself. When I'd not long been a Knight, and I first got this ship...they gave me a moment to go home, back to Alpheridies. I thought it had been lost, Theron, but you did this for me. You can't know how much this means.” 

She pulled him into another hug, not so forceful this time, instead tender and warm. Comforting. Their bodies breathed as one, as if time stood still for just the two of them in that moment, in that room. 

A war raged on outside, but for the first time in five years there was at least one reason to be happy again.


	4. Just say it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Yalla’ra’s return from the Odessen Wilds, Theron realises there’s something he can’t keep himself from saying any longer. 
> 
> Set between chapters 12 and 13 of KotFE. Some hurt/comfort to it, plenty of kissing.

“Well, there's not much more we can do right now. I think it's best for all of us to take a break. Yes Theron, even you,” Lana sighed, an exhaustion evident in her voice that was matched by the rest of the room. Koth was slumped back in his chair, whilst Senya paced with her arms folded, avoiding looking at anyone else. Theron stood almost separate from the others, his hands clutching at his spiked hair, repeatedly inhaling as if on the verge of saying something but not knowing where to start.

“Commander, could I have a word in private?” he asked at last, using the formal title as he did when around others. It wasn't as if their relationship was a secret, but it was a boundary he preferred to keep as much as he could whilst they worked.

Yalla'ra nodded as he led her away from the war room out into the corridor, where straight away she was pulled into a powerful, searing kiss that made her buckle at the knees. She eagerly responded in kind, though the moment of passion was short-lived. Almost as quickly as he initiated the kiss, Theron had pulled away, scratching at his neck as he tried to avoid looking at her. 

“Theron,” she panted, needing to catch her breath, “I've never seen you like this before, what's going on?”

“I thought,” he bit at his bottom lip in a desperate attempt to reign in all the emotion that was nevertheless spilling out. “I thought I'd lost you all over again, that it was like before,” he said, his voice faltering as he spoke.

“I'm here now, I'm not going anywhere.” 

“I...”

Her hand moved to his cheek with the gentlest of touches, turning his face back to hers.

“Theron, just say it.” 

“I love you.” He let the words hang there in the corridor with just the two of them. Three simple words that meant everything. “I love you, and I have for so long. You don't have to say it back yet, I know you're still...but we face life or death situations every day so I just. I had to say. Just in case.”

Her thumb moved to the side of his face, tracing the line of stubble on his cheek as she murmured back to him. “I can't say it back yet, but I will soon. And I promise you I'm not leaving you again.”

He closed the gap between them for another kiss, one that was soft and lingering. Like something to be done every day, over and over. His hand moved to meet hers at his face, taking it away in his as they stayed locked in each other's gaze. 

He tilted his head as the kiss broke, resting his forehead against hers with a smile. His breath had slowed, as if all the pent-up tension of the day had at last started to ease. All that tension of the last five years, or even longer, as long as those words had been waiting to leave his mouth. 

“It's okay now, Theron,” she breathed, close enough that her lips brushed his as she spoke. 

“Yes. Yes it is.”


	5. I trust you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The galaxy is at war, and the trip to the _Javelin_ provides a fresh challenge for Ruka’ii. Spoilers for chapter three of the Jedi Consular class story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big spoilers for chapter three of the Jedi Consular class story ahead.
> 
> One very vague sex reference. Angst.
> 
> First time writing for my Consular! She has a very different outlook to the rest of my characters, both in terms of the force and generally in life. She's the least angsty of them, but I've still written angst for her.

A Jedi is calm. A Jedi knows peace. Through the chaos, they find harmony. There is no passion, there is serenity.

Ruka'ii had never struggled with it before. No other path had ever been laid out for her. Parents were just the faintest of memories, a flash of warmth in a distant past. The Order was where she'd grown up: her family, her home, a source of strength and a source of self. Her future was always there before her, a duty she was born to fulfil. Her relationship with the force was the greatest of gifts, and also a responsibility to be used for good. 

But in this moment, perhaps more than any moment, it was testing her. 

And not like the other times. The Council, the Republic had asked great things of her; challenges too much for one person's shoulders, especially one so young. But if it was the will of the force, then it was what she must do. And the force would be there to guide her, she could rely upon it, trust it. No task was too great when the force was with her. 

Falling in love wasn't supposed to happen. She didn't even know it _could_ happen, that someone could have such an effect on her this way. But though war had cast its shadow across the galaxy, Felix entered her life as a beacon of shining bright light: warm, solid, and safe. Unwavering. His feelings had been clear from the start, though it had taken longer to realise her own, to accept and rationalise the unfamiliar sensation. She was always one to see the beauty in the world around her, to recognise the smallest joys and perfect details in nature and in others. Yet the galaxy still became more beautiful when they kissed for the first time, when their bodies connected in perfect bliss. 

Warnings about attachments had always been clear, yet attachments were unavoidable. Ruka'ii had many, but they brought positivity: mutual support, guidance, learning and growth. Not just from Felix, but from her padawan Nadia, from the others in the crew and the Rift Alliance. Friendships had been formed, close bonds of co-operation and mutual respect. Attachment was a problem when it controlled a person, ruled their actions, but she was confident in maintaining the balance for herself and others. 

Falling in love was something she couldn't control, but allowing herself to act upon it was. 

And with all decisions came consequences, tests of commitment, conflicts of loyalties. This day was always due to come once she'd made hers.

The force was still with her, but it was providing a challenge. 

The _Javelin_ had been a trap, an imperial plan designed to lure them in. The attempt at its seizure quickly became a matter of damage limitation, a frantic rush of dismantling bombs and escaping with lives and ships still intact. 

But as with any trap, opportunity could still be found. What better way to learn about your enemy than when forced to dance to their tune? And Felix knew it too. The commandos were sent away to their safety, but he stayed behind. 

_Why_ did he have to stay behind? 

They were the same, Felix and her. Duty to others came first. The cause was always the priority. Their personal needs and safety, that was secondary. What did they matter if someone could be helped or saved? That shared sense of duty had drawn them together, it helped them fight as one in the field. It was supposed to make this day easier when it came. Why wasn't it making this easier?

“I need to do a full download.” The words hung heavy, laden with its unspoken implication. Time was precious, and this would use all he had.

“Felix.” Her voice was normally so serene, but now it barely sounded like her own. “Will you still be able to evacuate?”

“Um, this is taking a while. I won't be able to get back to the ship. I saw a rank of escape pods down here though, I can meet you on the surface.”

“You'll be entering a warzone.” 

“I know, but we need this data. Do you trust me?”

“I trust you.” _Of course I do. More than anyone._

“We'll meet on Corellia. You'll find me. Believe me, there's too much I still want to say. Iresso, signing off.”

His hologram flickered out, pulling her focus back to the room around her. The floor was shaking, the leftover bombs starting to detonate and tear the ship apart. There was no time, not even for her. 

She reached into the force as she ran back to the airlock, clinging to his presence for as long as she could, trusting in it to keep him safe.

He would do his duty, and she would do hers.


	6. That's the easy part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Onyxus has been accepted into the Grand Hunt, even if it wasn’t actually his idea to enter. There’s only one thing left to do before the Hunt begins: steal a ship from Dromund Kaas spaceport.
> 
> Warnings: alcohol mention, canon-typical violence, guns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onyxus takes part in the Great Hunt but he isn't my canon Bounty Hunter. He joined Paxton Rall's crew of pirates a few years prior to the class story.

Dromund Kaas was far from Onyxus's favourite planet. It wasn't just the weather, though the constant storms were hardly a selling point, but rather the constant imperial stuffiness they all had to put up with anywhere they went. As a bulky Rattataki, he was used to attracting a few wary stares, but walking around with four other aliens on a world that treated them like dirt meant the disdainful looks and filthy glances were never-ending. 

Of course, the group tended to attract attention _wherever_ they went. As a gang of pirates – or 'professionals', as they were supposed to say – they were hardly the quietest of citizens. _Just adding some flair and panache to our surroundings_ , Paxton would say, even as a job required a touch of subtlety. _Make enough noise and people will do anything to tune you out_ , Bloodhound would offer instead, which seemed far more likely. 

But Onyxus wouldn't change them for anything. Paxton was his love, the crew his family, and even for all their excesses, he'd found a place where he belonged. 

Even if they were responsible for his current predicament.

It had all seemed like such a good idea at the time, as many things tended to after several glasses of kri'gee in an evening. And that night marked his birthday as well as the end of another job, meaning more glasses than usual were going round. Double the reason to celebrate, as if they ever needed an excuse. He'd woken up in the morning with a pounding in his head and a flashing holocom telling him he'd been accepted into the Great Hunt. Nobody could quite remember who'd actually submitted his name, and pulled in their last favour with the Hutts to get him sponsored. Either that, or nobody wanted to own up to it. 

But there was no backing out of it now he'd come this far. There was just one thing left to do before the Hunt began in earnest, a grand tradition to be fulfilled. Steal a ship, and from one of the most heavily monitored ports in all imperial space. 

“But we already have a ship!” Rin exclaimed, his voice standing out even in the constant din of the Nexus Room cantina.

“I don't know why you're complaining when you're the one who got me into this mess,” Onyxus retorted.

“Me?! I'm pretty sure Bloodhound was the one who-”

His words were cut off as the Togruta began spinning her blaster in her hand, “Are you sure you want to finish that sentence?”

“Easy folks, easy,” chuckled Paxton. “Have you forgotten we are the finest in the galaxy at our craft? Led by the most brilliant, cleverest, charismatic, and – well – devilishly handsome captain around? Stealing a ship is a piece of theatre, and when have we ever turned down the chance to put on a show of it?”

* * * * * * * *

Any thoughts of a subtle approach were lost the minute the five aliens strutted into the spaceport with a dramatic air of confidence that only made it obvious that it wasn't, in fact, a ship that belonged to them. Yet. Paxton had been right, they were certainly going to put on a show. 

Paxton and Bloodhound were stood back to back, spinning together in a perfect circle as they fired volleys of blaster bolts at their foes, their lekku flying behind them. Rin had taken the physical approach, almost making the ground shake as he tackled his opponents to the floor, kicking their weapons from their hands before they could think to use them. Onyxus also made full use of his size, looming over spaceport officials and incapacitating them with only the slightest effort. And if anyone managed to avoid those four there was still the Mauler, the smallest of the bunch, able to weave about and pop up in unexpected places, leaving a trail of explosions in his wake. 

The fight was over within minutes. The crew may have been outnumbered, but it was a well-rehearsed routine mixing distraction, diversion, and all-out blazes of gunfire and brute force. They each knew their roles to perfection, practised on many occasions across the galaxy. Such events were an occupational hazard, after all, and they'd all received enough kolto in their lives to learn the cost of any mistakes. 

“I still prefer our ship,” Rin complained, stomping his boots as he caught up with the rest of the crew. 

“Well lucky for you, someone has to fly that off this rock too, and it sounds like you've just volunteered yourself. Unless there's any objections, of course,” laughed Paxton, preparing for the inevitable squabble that would trigger amongst the crew. 

“Hang on, does the Hunter have to fly the ship as well? Because if Onyx is flying then I'm definitely going in ours,” gibed Bloodhound, already revelling in the offended look on the Rattataki's face.

“I don't think that's how it wor-” Onyxus began, but was cut off by Paxton's elbow nudging him repeatedly. He cleared his throat and started again, “I mean, that's definitely how it works, yes.”

“Don't you dare go crashing my ship!” yelled Paxton as the gang began running out of the hangar bay, apparently all in a battle to reach the captain's chair first. Sighing, he turned back to where Onyxus was stood, smiling as he reached up for a quick kiss. “Well, that's the easy part done I guess, now on to the rest of the competition. You ready for it, _Hunter_?”

Onyxus grinned. “With you at my side? Always.”


	7. Will you look at this?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yalla’ra and Theron are spending a lazy afternoon at home. But the children have gone awfully quiet, which probably means someone is up to something.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kid fic. Just pure, self-indulgent fluff honestly.

Yalla'ra had grown to love lazy afternoons like these. No excessively-long council meetings, no sparring with galactic evils, no strategising complex battle plans. Just her, Theron, the children, and some quality time spent together. She'd never been one for sitting still before, always ready to charge head-first into the next fight or whatever deadly threat the galaxy was depending on her to stop. But since the children came into her life she'd learnt to appreciate the value of slowing down. She still loved being a Jedi, but the weight of the galaxy didn't have to rest on her shoulders all the time; the load was easier to bear when shared with others. And if that meant more time spent with these bubbly, bouncy forces of nature? All the better. 

Come to think of it, both of them were being awfully quiet. Unusually so. Quiet enough to suggest that something was brewing with at least one of them. 

She snuggled in closer beside Theron on the sofa, his spare hand absent-mindedly wandering down her arm as he remained transfixed on a puzzle on his datapad. The only sounds were those of his fingers tapping away and occasional half-mutters as he worked out the answers. She waited, listening in for the first hint of whatever mischief was surely on its way. 

There. The quiet shuffle of small footsteps, plus what sounded like something dragging along the floor behind them. What was that noise? It was harder to place, not the usual sound of a stuffed animal or a toy speeder trailing on the ground. 

Unable to resist any more, Yalla'ra bobbed her head up for a quick peek behind the sofa, and was met by possibly the most adorable sight she'd ever seen. 

So that was what Alae'ra had been up to. Theron's favourite red jacket, beaten up and out of commission after years of over-use but kept for its sentimental value, had somehow been pulled out of its hiding place in the wardrobe. Shoulder pads that already puffed out a fully grown man absolutely swamped a four-year-old girl, for whom it may as well have been a full-length Jedi travelling cloak, even then still trailing on the floor behind her. The sleeves were so long and baggy it was hard to tell if her arms were even inside them, let alone where they ended. And the outfit didn't stop there. Framing her left eye were two small circles and a vertical line drawn on in thick pen, their placement perfectly matching her father's own cybernetics.

Having to bite her tongue to fight back the giggle desperate to escape, Yalla'ra dropped back down and nudged at Theron until she got a response, her voice barely above a whisper. “Will you look at this?”

Theron's eyes followed where she was trying to beckon with her head. “Sshh, she's a spy, we can't see her,” he answered, though clearly trying to stifle a laugh of his own. 

Alae'ra began slowly creeping round the room on the tip of her toes, sneaking behind furniture, and dramatically flicking her whole head quickly to look from side to side as if attempting to avoid detection. One arm was held straight out in front of her, her other hand wrapped around it as if about to fire a dart from imaginary wrist braces. The attempt to look imposing was somewhat undone by the way the jacket sleeves kept sliding down, empty fabric flopping back loosely over tiny hands despite all efforts to roll them back up.

Theron cleared his throat, raising his voice like a stage actor whilst his eyes still followed Alae'ra's path around the room. “Well, Commander, it's clear that our plan to raid the enemy base is nearly ready for action.”

A pair of eyes popped up from behind a table, quickly dropping back down after a couple of seconds. 

Yalla'ra was a less convincing actor, not able to contain her grin or keep her voice steady as she tried playing along. “Yes, General? When will the final unit be in position?”

Alae'ra was now on her hands and knees, creeping gradually closer. 

“I think they'll be ready to go at-”

“PEW PEW!”

“Arrrgghh, noooo!” 

Alae'ra had jumped up square onto her feet in front of them, firing an imaginary dart at Theron. He clutched at his chest as he tumbled from the sofa to the floor with a spectacular flourish, groaning and writhing on the ground to his daughter’s shrieks of delighted laughter. Yalla'ra had also lost what little hold she had left on her character, matching Alae'ra's giggles with a full-hearted laugh of her own. She jumped forward from her seat, scooping Alae'ra up in her arms and holding her high before gently plopping her down onto the sofa.

“General, I've found the spy's weakness! It's tickles!”

Alae'ra's giggles only got louder and louder. “Noooooo!”


	8. Are you kidding me?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ticcer learns that blowing up a Hutt may not be the best way to make friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for canon-typical violence and some gore. Set at the end of chapter two for the smuggler class story - so a little spoilery, but no major impact on the storyline as a whole.

The grenade floated in the air, as if time itself had slowed as it made its perfect arc from Ticcer's hand into the gaping mouth of Raskurro. As though they all knew exactly what was about to happen, but were powerless to stop it. Risha and Vaz turned away, trying their best to shield themselves from what they knew was about to happen. But Ticcer remained still, staring with a childish wonder, apparently fascinated by the inevitable conclusion about to come when a grenade went off inside a Hutt.

Raskurro exploded in a glorious burst of colour, full of greens and golds, pinks and blues. Layers upon layers of thick gunge and goo covered every surface of the room, clinging to skin and fur and seeping through clothes. And then came the stench; the kind that caught in the throat and made the eyes water but that was impossible to avoid, the kind that would haunt them for weeks. This would take hours to clean away, even under the most powerful of sonic showers. 

“Euuugghh. Are you kidding me?” Ticcer groaned, shaking at his arms to try and get rid of any loose clumps of slime. 

“Well what did you think would happen?” snapped Risha. Even though Ticcer had born the brunt of the explosion, plenty of the mess had found its way onto her clothing and caught itself in her perfectly styled hair. Oh, he was in _trouble._

“I don't know, I wasn't really thinking of that when I threw it!”

“ _Really?_ I hadn't guessed,” came Risha's exasperated retort. 

He was saved by the clunk of Vaz Traniff's approaching boots, though given the look on the burly Cathar's face, perhaps saved wasn't quite the right word. _The two of them should be thankful_ , he thought, _surely one less Hutt to deal with is a good thing._

Based on the looks on both their faces, he somehow got the impression that excuse wasn't going to fly.

“Let's get moving,” grunted Vaz. “I'm first in the sonic. And don't you dare sit down anywhere in my ship until _I_ say so.” Yeah, it was hard to say he didn't deserve that. 

* * * * * * * * 

Despite the inauspicious start to their partnership, the raid was a success. Well, ignoring the fact that the Voidwolf turned up to fire upon the ship, causing a frantic rush to escape before it blew. But a bit of drama was to be expected these days, it kept things interesting. And it was almost a nice change of pace for the imps to be turning fire on each other rather than on him, for once. 

That Voidwolf was turning into more than a mere annoyance though. But it wasn't like he was the only one who kept showing up to try and kill Ticcer; he was making a habit of finding enemies that were a bit harder to shake than the average spacer. Unfortunately it was all part of the job, and the better he got at it, the longer that list became. He could save the worrying for later. Now was time for the fun part: settling up the money, and celebrating. Any job where the imps came off worst was a job well done, after all. 

“Well let's split and then let's split, know what I mean? Best not be hanging round here for too long,” said Vaz. 

“Right. You take what you've earned, I take what I've earned, call it done?”

“Sounds fair to me. Well Captain. It's been...a pleasure, for the most part.” Vaz avoided his eyes, the memory of the meeting with Raskurro still fresh despite going unspoken. “I can't say we'll be doing this again though.” 

“...Yeah I don't blame you there. Fly safe.”

Vaz gave a hasty nod before returning straight to his ship without pause, clearly in no mood to stick about. Ticcer was keen to do the same, but sadly there was still a bit of official business to deal with first. Oh, the struggles of being legitimate. Well, legitimate might have been an exaggeration. Even if he was _technically_ working with a senator, he was determined not to be seen as a 'respectable citizen'.

“Let's go.” Risha tugged at his arm. “I'm sure the Senator will be desperate to see her _favourite_ smuggler.”

“Come on, you know you're my number one. I just can't help that I'm _so_ irresistible,” he winked back, giving a playful nudge at her shoulder as she rolled her eyes.

“Irrepressible more like. Don't think I've forgotten the smell of Hutt goo.”

He winced, the thought alone still enough to raise a shudder. Unlike Vaz, she wasn't holding back on this. “How long before you stop using that against me?”

“Until you next do something ridiculous,” she shrugged.

“Oh, so about five more minutes then.” 

That managed to raise a smile at least. “Have some faith in yourself. Call it ten.”

“Deal.”


	9. You better leave now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kaetos arrives on Corellia in the days following the Treaty of Coruscant, a young Chiss seeking out the Jedi to learn the ways of the Force, but they are first greeted with suspicion.
> 
> Warnings for imprisonment.

Corellia was quite unlike anything Kaetos had seen before. Copero basked in the cool white and blue glows of the mountains looming over its towns, graceful buildings surrounded by lush green gardens and elegant brick streets, a gentle hubbub of noise in the background that rarely ventured beyond refined. Corellia was dominated by matte browns and oranges, indistinct buildings that almost blurred into one, a maze of sharp corners and streets that soon made it impossible for anyone unfamiliar with its layout to know where they were. A constant buzz in the background as a hundred mechanical noises blended into one: speeders cruising down streets, the low hum of the tram network, the bangs and churns of construction in the shipyards.

The noise was enough for the pangs of homesickness to return, stabbing stronger at their stomach. They'd fought that battle off and on since boarding that first ship away, amongst others but also so alone.

_This is for the best, sweet child. You deserve the chance to be your true self._

Their mother's words still rung in their ears, a motivator throughout this solitary journey. There was no home for them on Copero, not for a force-sensitive Chiss who would only bring shame to their family when the truth was discovered. This was the way forward, not just for their own future, but for that of their brother and sister as well. But knowing it was right wasn't quite enough to stop the grief of losing what stayed behind. 

Corellia was the present, maybe even the future. Making it this far marked the success of their parents' dream, the complicated path they'd woven throughout the galaxy in the hope of finding a Republic world whilst shaking away any prying eyes from home. The culmination of weeks spent travelling on crowded, rickety ships, trading work and whatever credits they had for a passage away with total strangers. 

Spaceports had become a familiar site, but none were quite as big as Corellia's. It was almost as if the whole city was one big spaceport. Where on some planets people would stare with awe and wonder as a ship ascended into the sky, here nobody batted an eyelid. It was all routine, ordinary. 

Kaetos was not ordinary. They stood out in the crowd, gathered stares of suspicion and fascination in equal measure. Blue skin, red eyes, sharp cheekbones, and blue hair falling loosely to frame their face, quite unlike anyone else standing around on the streets. For all their best efforts to blend in along the way, wearing a tattered old jacket and beaten up boots that matched the uniform of many a spacer, some things simply couldn't be hidden. 

They knew the stares would come, that suspicions would be high when the galaxy's tensions had not yet eased. Peace was official now, days old and highly delicate, born of treachery and deception and too much blood. The Empire had finally struck at the Republic's heart on Coruscant after a campaign waging war through many core worlds. A treaty may have been signed but still military patrolled Corellia's streets, as if waiting for the Empire's next great lie, wanting to be prepared in case this planet would be next. It was not the ideal time to look Chiss, to bear the blue skin of a species known as an ally of the Empire, and certainly not for their proficiency with the force. 

_You better leave now._

The words were said with menace, when all Kaetos asked for was kindness. For someone to listen, to give them a chance, only to be met by derisive sneers and warnings to back away for their own good. But still Kaetos persisted, never swayed from the truth they'd trained themself to repeat throughout this journey, in the hope that saying it enough times would make someone hear. 

It was almost inevitable when they were thrown into the brig. No time for pleasantries or patience it would seem, at least not through all the pain and fear radiating from these troops. 

Four days passed, or maybe it was five. Even after a short time it became difficult to keep track when a day was just the time spent waiting between sunrise and sunset, with nothing to distinguish it from the day before. Except now there was a presence, something different that they'd never recognised in another person before. They didn't know who or where it came from yet it felt almost familiar, certainly friendly, like it was reaching out to find them and welcome them in. 

They felt it long before the man entered the room, deactivated their cell and crouched down to reach out a hand. Despite the ridges of his skin, the tusks descending from his face, the goggles and mask that gave an imposing appearance, his amplified voice contained a distinctive richness and kindness that was almost unexpected. 

“Greetings, young one. Will you tell me your name?”

“My name is Kaetos. I've come to find the Jedi and learn the ways of the Force.” 

“You've found us, Kaetos. My name is Tol Braga, Jedi Master. You're free now, would you like to join me?”

Kaetos climbed to their feet, smoothing out clothes crumpled from days of being slept in. It was hard to read the man's face, but something pushed against their mind that felt like a smile.


	10. Watch me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qiren is a typical Corellian, a lover of speed, racing, and telling everyone all about it. So when the All Worlds Ultimate Swoop Rally takes over the holonet, naturally she has to go and get involved.

Qiren normally left the holonet on in the background on her ship. It was a habit more than ever being her focus – sitting down and watching it was something _serious_ people did, after all – but she needed some way to keep abreast of the state of the galaxy. She didn't need to watch it avidly, but this way she could just pick up on the important bits – specifically, the exciting parts – and the rest would just naturally absorb itself.

Today though, it was certainly holding her attention. And that was mostly down to the two words being repeated by a _very_ enthusiastic droid. 

“SWOOP BIKES!”

Now that was a way to get her to listen. She was Corellian, after all. A lover of speed, racing, and telling everyone about it. It had been years since she'd gotten on a swoop bike, but she suspected it was one of those things that once you learned, you never forgot.

And if it turned out otherwise, well, she was a fast learner. 

Before she knew it she was racing back to the other end of the ship, plugging Dantooine's co-ordinates into the navicomputer.

“Uh, Captain? Where we headed?” Corso asked, popping his head around the doorway. Oh right, in the excitement she _may_ have forgotten to tell him they were on the move again.

“Dantooine, you see that holo report?”

“Sure did...wait, so we're going there? Did we see the same report?”

“Swoop bikes! Come on, it'll be fun! And if not, there's plenty of farms, you'll be right at home,” she said with a wink.

Corso chuckled, “If you say so Captain, but don't think I won't remember that last part.”

* * * * * * * * 

Dantooine was a quiet planet most of the time, filled with lush, rolling green fields of fertile land, the type that attracted many seeking out a simple life. And despite Corso's protestations whenever she called him farmboy, he _did_ fit right in. That wasn't a bad thing, if anything it was good to see him in his element. So much of their time was spent chasing down the next money-making opportunity, getting caught up in shoot-outs, making the kind of increasingly daring escapes at which they both excelled; but here was a place where he could actually _relax_ for once.

Of course, she was a city girl, and could barely cope without some constant source of noise in the background. The Swoop Rally had certainly brought that, and if anything felt all the louder given the natural peace and quiet of Dantooine.

The rally was a carnival, a celebration of speed and noise. Crowds whooped and cheered as bikes zoomed past them, fireworks lit up stands with blazes of colour. Music thumped throughout the route, broken by gasps and shouts of spectators and one highly excitable commentator. The pits were a hive of activity, decked out with the coloured flags of the teams and packed with people milling about. Enthusiastic fans, desperate to get the first look at the bikes and meet their heroes who rode them. Mechanics, tinkering away, making last minute adjustments to eke every bit of speed they could out of their bikes. The riders themselves, still competing against each other when not out on the track, revving their engines ever louder with menacing glares or strutting about, squaring up to their opponents. If Corso was in his element during their trip through the farms, Qiren had found hers here, barely waiting a minute to take it all in before running to an official and signing herself up for a test ride with one of the Rally's most daring crews. 

The Pit Screamers were all about their tricks: big ramps, big jumps, and lots of showing off. Kindred spirits with their newest rider. A quick introduction to the team, a conversation filled with roaring laughter and bouncing hugs, and she was on a bike and heading for the starting line. With her leatheris jacket, driving gloves, and a pair of goggles to shield her eyes, she looked less like someone who had just turned up on the spot and more like someone who'd been racing for years. 

“Whatcha think, Corso?” She shouted over the engines as she cruised past him, a wild gleeful grin on her face. “Get yourself a seat and watch me, but be quick – 'cause you know I'll be.”

* * * * * * * *

Qiren was a natural on the bike, much as she'd suspected. Some skills were hard to shake after all, even with a lack of practice. There were a few bumps in the road early on whilst she got used to the course and the bike, some of them literal, but that was all forgotten before long. When the cold wind hit her face in the way it only could by travelling at such speed, nothing else mattered. It was just her, the bike, the track, and the thrill of putting on a show. The roars of the crowd served to spur her on, to eke out every bit of hang time, to add every flash of flair. 

That was a reaction you didn't get for tricks or fancy flying in a spaceship. There was none of the buzz from performing to a crowd there. Instead it was normally a stream of profanities from crewmembers who were never quite appreciative of the skill required to make an effective getaway.

She was still on a rush from the ride when she met Corso back at the pits, dashing off from her new-found friends and admirers to leap into his arms with enough force that he almost lost his balance.

“Wow Captain, that was great!”

“What did I say? Knew you'd love it! We'll make a swooper of you too yet, you'll see!” 

Corso gave half a laugh as he shook his head. “Hey, I'm happy to leave that to you. I'll stick to ships for now. And I'm not sure I could compete with what I just saw, anyway.”

“Oh yeah, you _definitely_ couldn't,” she teased. “Come on, let's go spend these hard-won earnings. Time to do what we do best, I'm sure there's some people round here needing our help.” 

Corso's grin widened, the biggest it had been all day. Chase the thrills, sure, but _this_ was what they were really all about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one got big on me!
> 
> Qiren is my Robin Hood-type smuggler, a whirlwind of chaotic energy.


	11. I missed this

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theron’s thoughts after Nathema and the engagement, coping with his guilt but with Yalla’ra back in his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for nudity, suggestive content/non-explicit sexual themes. Post-coital.  
> Generally angsty.

A tangle of limbs caught together in a tangle of bedsheets. A relaxed, comfortable near-silence, the only sound being that of their breathing; those soft, slow pants as their chests rose and fell in perfect unison.

Theron had grown used to silence in the months gone by, laying alone for so many nights willing himself to ignore the pit of guilt in his stomach long enough for his body to get some rest. It rarely worked; nights were disturbed, full of dreams of worst case scenarios, almost realised in the confusion of waking up without her there. He used to prefer sleeping alone, until she came out of her carbonite tomb and gave him a place in her bed and in her heart. He could barely sleep without her since.

But she was here now, next to him again at last. Her fingers traced that well-followed route over the scars that criss-crossed his chest, the marks of the shock to his body on Ziost years ago. She'd raced to his aid back then, too, always so ready to help him whatever the request, no second questions. The last months had been so desperate, so impossible without her, having to push away not only his love, but his most trusted ally and partner from the day they met. 

There were new scars for her to discover now of course, a pair of burns where the lightsaber pierced through his abdomen. Healed but still red and tender, a permanent reminder he had to live with of the pain he'd put her through. They matched her own, as fresh on his body now as they had been the first time he saw hers. She smoothed her palm over it as if still trying to protect him from the blow, just as she'd clutched at his torso after the saber had left his body, her head against his face, begging him to stay alive. 

Weeks had passed, spent in the floating fuzz of a bacta tank, barely aware of his surroundings. Weeks in a haze as he replayed that moment, every moment. The crack of her voice screaming his name as Atrius delivered the blow. That same broken voice that shouted after him on Umbara, on Copero. The worst of his memories, spinning round in his head in an endless cycle he couldn't bring himself to stop. 

He wasn't supposed to be the one who brought her pain. It was one of the first things he said when they were reunited after those long years. That he would take care of her.

He'd _promised_ her. 

And he'd let her down. For the good of the Alliance, the galaxy, and for her; but it was hard finding solace in those intentions knowing the effect of the actions he'd taken. How could any of it have been to protect her, when he saw the holo of the person he loved in utter despair, pleading with him to come back? 

She'd told him once that he'd mended her heart, made her feel whole after losing everything and everyone. And now he'd pulled it apart, torn it to pieces all over again. 

Yet she was beside him now. Nestling her body under his arm, her legs caught in his, sharing the warmth of skin against skin. She'd taken him back, even after everything he'd done, promised to spend the rest of her life with him despite it all. A new chapter together. 

Her voice came out a murmur, muffled as she spoke into his neck, but enough to pull him away from the constant trail of thoughts consuming his mind.

“I missed this.” 

“Mm?”

“These moments. After. Just us. My bed felt empty without you.”

He lay a kiss at the top of her head, taking a moment to breathe her in whilst he considered his words. What words could there be that would even begin to say enough? That could apologise for all he'd done, that could thank her for being so quick to believe him, to trust him again? 

“I love you.” The words he'd repeated inside his head every day for months, over and over again in the hope he could say them out loud to her another time. _I love you, and that's why I have to do this._ “I'll spend every day of my life making it up to you.” 

“You don't have to, Theron. I already know.”


	12. All I ever wanted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yalla’ra struggles to come to terms with the Emperor’s return on Yavin IV. Angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: PTSD, manipulation, emotional abuse.

That voice. That deep, booming voice. It spoke aloud, echoing through the ruins of the temple; but it could have been in her ear, breathing down her neck, creeping down her spine. A jolt of ice stabbing her straight in the heart, stinging her skin with electricity the same way the lightning had crackled over her body at his command. 

The voice spoke aloud, matching the one that had spoken in her mind for so many months. That feasted on the darkness inside her, twisting it around the light like a predator, consuming it until nothing else was left. Giving her orders, telling her it was what she wanted anyway, that it was what she was good for. 

But she'd put an end to it. Broken free. Spent every month afterwards chasing him, fuelled by revenge and hatred with no satisfaction until she brought the roof crumbling down over his body.

Yet he was here. Again. A poison that prickled through her veins. 

She hit the ground with a thud, not knowing her legs had given way until palms collided with cold stone. Kira's hand reached out to lift her up, but her legs were wobbling too. Vitiate had cast his spell over many in his time. And now he came again, his words enough to create shadows. 

She was bundled into the shuttle, packed far too close for any comfort. The mood was flat, one of exhaustion and resignation and laden with the sense of endings. An alliance forged of necessity would start to be forgotten come the morning, the fault lines glossed over for the sake of the cause but never disappearing entirely. 

Before she might have been the one to take advantage, seize the opportunity and strike first whilst their guard was down. Destruction of the enemy had always been the priority. But life mattered more. Master Orgus had come back to remind her of that. These were just people, with their own hopes and dreams, their own friends and families to return to. That was the bigger picture. The greatest challenge would always be making people listen. 

Master Orgus had also warned her dark times were ahead. She couldn't help wishing he'd told her that meant _this._

Kira broke the news to the crew. Yalla'ra had tried, but the words got stuck in her throat somehow each time she opened her mouth. 

Those looks in their eyes. The sympathy, the concern, the worry. The undercurrent of fear. All over again. Just like the last time. 

_How can you stand by me, knowing what I've done?_

Yet they never faltered, never moved. Even when she didn't deserve their support, they gave it unconditionally. Put their trust in her when she wasn't able to trust herself. 

“All I ever wanted was to be free of him.” Her voice was hoarse, her throat still burning from the shouts of the battle and the sobs that followed. “I have to make things right.” 

Kira's hand squeezed at her shoulder, her presence unwavering, resolute by her side.

“You won't have to do it alone.”


	13. How about you trust me for once?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a run-in with Rogun the Butcher’s men at Port Nowhere, Ticcer strikes up a conversation with an old friend. 
> 
> Set at the start of chapter two of the smuggler class story.

Maybe a bit of rest and relaxation after finding Nok Drayen's treasure was too much to hope for. If it wasn't the dozens of angry messages clogging up Ticcer's mailbox after the Galactic Finders Guild made the news public, then it was the way all attempts at a vacation kept having a nasty habit of descending into shoot-outs again and again (though admittedly that may have also had something to do with his choice of holiday destinations). If everyone else was late to the prize, that was _their_ problem. Not his. Why should he have to pay the price for being successful? 

And if that wasn't enough, now Rogun the Butcher and his men had caught up with him. There was just no catching a break. Port Nowhere was supposed to be a nice easy trip: catch up with Darmas, beat him a few more times at sabacc, hear about whatever this latest business proposal was. 

Ticcer could handle himself, of course, even if Bowdaar had made it his job to act as a personal bodyguard in recent journeys. That was hardly something to complain about though, somehow he always felt that bit safer with a ten foot tall Wookiee at his side. Rogun's men were soon sent packing, patrons quickly turning back to their drinks without so much as a second thought. 

And that was when he noticed another figure sitting in the cantina, one he would have recognised anywhere. She wore a new grey suit of armour, one bulkier and heavier than the last one he'd seen her wear, if that was even possible. She sported her signature bright-white crop of wavy hair, her face dominated by chunky cybernetics and an angry red scar slashing from corner to corner, appearing more intense in the low light of the bar. She'd done alright for herself since the last time they'd worked together, back on the smuggling crew he'd joined when barely an adult. As if she didn't scare him enough before, now the whole galaxy knew her name. Jayma Oli, Grand Champion of the Great Hunt. 

She sat deep in conversation with another young woman and a Devaronian man with a broken horn (well, he was deep in conversation at least, they seemed to looking elsewhere). Her eyes glinted with recognition as Ticcer strolled up to the table, the start of a smirk forming on her face as he came closer. He took no hesitation in interrupting the conversation; after all, Jayma was rarely one for small talk anyway. 

“Oh great, I guess you're here to kill me too, aren't you? Just my luck.” 

Jayma snorted, “Always think so much of yourself, don't you? You're small fry Ticcer, I prefer a _challenge_. How about you trust me for once instead?”

“Hold on, small fry?” Ticcer placed his hands on his hips and scowled, affronted at the very suggestion. “I think you'll find I'm the most famous treasure hunter in the galaxy now, lots of people want to kill me!”

“You say that like it's something to be proud of, not that I can blame them,” she laughed. “Come on, grab a seat. I'm sure you and Gault will get _right_ along.” 

Jayma had always been a puzzle, right from the moment she challenged him to a fist fight within minutes of meeting him, just to check if he was worthy of her friendship. She scolded him and teased him constantly in the years they worked together, though he also knew he was one of the few who could genuinely break past that grumpy outer layer and make her laugh. She might not ever have been happy about it, but he could probably rely on her the most to throw her body in front of him in dire situations. And he would do the same for her, had even done the same for her once. Before, naturally, being told off for it. 

There were a lot of people in the galaxy who were just out for themselves, and really they were both among that number. But it also paid to have connections, people to count on in times of need. For better or worse, she was his. 

She would either save his life or be the death of him. 

Once thing was for certain, people were definitely keeping a wider berth from this table. She'd always had a certain presence that belied her small size, and now her fame and achievements were enough that there were few people left to underestimate her. Someone with that reputation spoke to you first, unless you had enough credits to do the talking or were one of a select few individuals. 

That could come in handy, actually.

“You know Jayma, I've been having a bit of trouble lately with this kind of thing. People out to get me, Rogun the Butcher on my back...” 

“No.” Her voice was flat, curt. Putting a stop to the suggestion before he could even put it into words. 

“What? I haven't even asked yet!”

“You didn't have to. Anyway, I know you can handle yourself.” 

“Come on,” he pleaded, “not even for an old friend?” 

“Ticcer.” She put her hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes and making sure to speak with all the sincerity she could muster. “You couldn't afford me.”


	14. I'm not doing that again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zakuul wasn’t Qiren’s first experience with carbon-freezing. 
> 
> Spoilers for chapter 3 of the smuggler class story, and chapters 1-3 of KotFE. Warnings for canon-typical violence and injuries. Whump.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set in an AU from the rest of the series - here Qiren is the canon smuggler and Outlander.

Once was bad enough.

'Voluntarily' going into carbon freeze on Voss after being grudgingly convinced it was the only way to get into Gormak Zak's base. That was only after an hour's worth of complaining, arguments with Scratch, and a back and forth with her own mind over whether any job was actually worth doing that for. 

It wasn't just that there were so many variables involved. Normally Qiren would have relished a challenge like that. But being frozen in carbonite and having those variables taken completely out of her hands? No thanks.

It was Scratch's gear, but even he hardly offered a compelling argument for her safety.

It took Corso committing to do it too, as well as the promises of Bowdaar and Akaavi to use physical force to stop her trying to back out at the last moment, to finally convince her to agree.

When she rolled out a couple of days later – muscles stiff and cramping up, skin still prickling, throat dry and eyes straining to focus – she made a promise to herself.

_I'm not doing that again._

Jobs be damned. If the situation called for it, someone else would be taking the hit next time. And good luck to any bounty hunter who dared come chasing after her. If they so much as thought about using that, they had another thing coming. 

* * * * * * * * 

Qiren always prided herself on being the deadliest shot in the galaxy. Jedi, Sith, whatever these guys with the armour and pikes were calling themselves; they underestimated a humble gunslinger to their peril. The force was overrated. Who needed it when you had this much skill? 

In the chaos of the Emperor's own _son_ swinging his saber at him, it was almost as if they'd forgotten she'd been freed from her restraints and had her blaster back in her hand. 

Well, Valkorion or Vitiate or whatever his name was had to be stopped somehow. If the son's saber was going to keep missing him (what was up with _that?)_ , then she may as well take a few shots herself. 

She didn't miss. Of course not.

Valkorion just laughed. 

She was thrown back off her feet as the purple light burst from his body, branching out in all directions before converging back into her chest. 

Her head smacked against the floor, throwing her into a haze. Hands snatched her by the arms, dragging her away, but to where? All she could see were those final flashes of light from his body, blinding her; the only sound was that deep, sinister laugh reverberating round and round her mind. 

Mechanical hisses and the harsh, heavy slam of a door. Wait, that sound was familiar, what was it?

Her own voice. The smallest groan.

_No..._

* * * * * * * * 

This wasn't her world. Was it a world? Corellia. No. Not her Corellia. Her crew, but they weren't her crew.

Coruscant burning like it had years ago. Corellia burning. Coronet City in ruins. No. It couldn't be.

Menacing laughter following her with each turn.

He spoke to her, he was in her head. But how? The blaster bolts had struck him square in the chest, she'd watched them, she never missed.

“Wake up. We have to go.”

That wasn't his voice...

“Don’t try to move. You’re dying.” 

...Lana? 

“I may have your cure but I’m not going to lie. This will hurt.” 

It already hurt. But no, something was different.

A bright, white light...

Falling forwards, not able to catch her balance before her knuckles hit the cold durasteel floor. This wasn't the dream.

She grabbed at Lana and scrambled to her feet, turning back to the site from where she'd fallen. 

A chamber cloaked with wisps of white steam. Grander, more industrial than that one from before. But it did the same job. There was no mistaking the sight of a carbonite prison.

_Not again._


	15. That didn't stop you before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yalla’ra and Theron take a ‘romantic getaway’, or rather, they join a planetary resistance movement and raid a Star Fortress bunker on their first date.

Most first dates probably weren't the type that involved crouching down behind street barriers, trying to avoid detection by members of Nar Shaddaa's more violent gangs. But then again, most people probably wouldn't even describe that as a date at all. 

At least that was the impression Yalla'ra got from the other Alliance leaders, if the confused frowns were anything to go by when she'd started referring to a trip to meet a resistance movement as a 'romantic getaway'. She was only half-joking. Her and Theron had been together for almost a month now, but they still hadn't been on an official 'first date'. It was _one_ reason he was joining her for this particular mission. 

But mainly it was because they just worked so well together. A partnership formed way back on Carrick Station, long before any of these romantic feelings were involved. Straight away they'd found a common wavelength, whether it was him running ops whilst she went out in the field, or in the meetings spent sharing intelligence and strategising for missions. They may have had their different methods at times, but a strength was found in a shared perspective, something that clicked between them in a way that never quite had in all her years with the Jedi. The understanding had naturally transferred itself to their work in the Alliance, even in such a short time. There was no better person to join her on the mission, really. And after all, the Star Fortresses were his pet project, it would have been rude not to invite him. Chances were he would have come along anyway even if she'd said no. 

And so here they were, in the mire of a territory contested by both the Black Sun and the Nova Guards, that just so happened to also be the home of a Star Fortress shield generator. As if the area didn't have enough problems. 

“Take the scan Theron, I'll keep watch.” She pressed the pair of macrobinoculars into his hands and waited, her fingers poised over the cold metal hilt of her lightsaber. It always paid to stay alert, not least with the extra targets on their backs these days. The galaxy was vast, filled with eager eyes always watching from somewhere.

The macrobinoculars bleeped as the scan completed, Theron putting his fingers to his temple as the information processed in full through his implants. 

“Right. I've got eyes on the generator, but those cannons are going to pose a problem. I just don't see how we get the air strikes in without too much collateral damage.” He paused, giving a deep exhale. “They knew what they were doing when they picked this place.” 

Collateral damage. Arcann wouldn't have hesitated, but the Alliance needed to be different. It wasn't just about wrenching planets out from his oppression. It was about doing it cleanly, helping them find their way again, making sure the galaxy could pull itself back up after being knocked down onto its knees. And if they were good enough, they might even win some allies to help the cause, too.

Yalla'ra gritted her teeth, letting out a long, deep breath. “Looks like we're doing this the hard way then. Any ideas?”

Theron scratched at his head, his expression little more than a frown but concealing swathes of information running through his mind at any one time. That was one of the things with dating a spy. She'd grown used to his smile in the moments shared alone together, unguarded but safe in each other's arms; she had the honour of learning all the subtle changes in his expressions as he worked. In the field it was a mask that barely faltered, a mark of his focus and dedication to the job, almost unreadable as a necessity of his role. 

“Okay, I have a plan,” he announced. “I'm just not sure you're going to like it.” 

“That didn't stop you before.”

“Fair, but I've learnt it's better to run things past you before I go and do them anyway.”

“At least you're self-aware, I suppose,” she sighed. “What is it?”

Theron grinned, letting the sabacc face he used on the job slip for a moment. “You use that saber of yours to draw their fire, I sneak around and lay some charges, we pull back and light things up.”

“That's barely a plan. And it still means explosions. And throwing me into danger isn't very _romantic_.” 

“Improvisation is a tactical strategy. We won't be blasting through the upper levels as well with this one. And it _will_ be romantic when I _heroically_ come to your aid. Now, just wait for my signal.” 

“What signal?”

“You'll see soon enough. Just wait.” He planted the quickest of kisses on her cheek before running off, ducking his body low to avoid any unwanted attention. Yalla'ra crouched down, her weight on the balls of her feet, prepared to spring up when the right moment came. 

A sudden bang across the street pulled the focus of the turrets for just a moment, but that was all the signal she needed. She leapt from her feet and glided through the air towards the cannons, drawing on the force with a practised ease to push her further. If so many things had changed about the world she'd woken up to, this was one thing that had stayed the same. When her lightsaber was in her hand she was a force of nature, an ability that had been honed to perfection over years spent fighting on battlefields. Channelled bursts of force energy between slashes and swipes of a blade, crashing against the reinforced metal frames of the turrets, deflecting the bolts from the cannons in a blur of glowing blue. 

And the plan _was_ working. Theron had crept into the corner of her vision, staying low as he planted the detonators at their base with precision. The cannons were so focused on her high-energy assault, they hadn't caught onto the spy sneaking about in the background.

Maybe he was right about the virtues of improvisation.

The detonators set, he grabbed her hand as they raced back from the cannons to their shelter behind the barrier, diving out of range of the blast. The charges triggered one by one in a series of bangs and bursts of fire and smoke, tearing the cannons apart along the fault lines created by her blade. 

“See? Perfectly to plan.” 

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around.” She leaned in, placing a kiss on his cheek and retreating with a smile before pulling herself up to her feet. “Come on, no time for rest, let's get Denz and her crew in and blast this generator next.”

“Now who's the romantic one?”


End file.
